tara eyes the claws appreciatively, raising one eyebrow. she won't remove her mittens to form a comparison - it's too goddamn cold for that. but the golden claws certainly merit a bit of appreciation. tara certainly prefers them to having paws. ]
Nice. Do they retract?
[ next time she takes off her gloves, tara wants to poke the claws. to see how sharp they are, of course. ]
And yeah. Winter only lasts a few months, depending on where you are in the world. When I was a kid, it felt like it lasted forever. But never longer than half the year. [ her eyes flicker to the entrance of the department store. the nattenfest decor has just been taken down, at least. tara isn't really ever in the mood for too much cheer. ]
Okay, so. Clothes shopping, first. Then, a warm diner with ice cream floats. That's the plan. You got anything else you wanna do?
⟪ woefully inconvenient, that. still, she overall seems to be quite proud of then, and their uses certainly outweigh everything else.
same as the way tara's winter last a mere half-year at their worst. enviable, but it must mean her summers were equally short, which, all told, seems like the worse end of the deal.
at any rate, the entrance to the shop – more, a whole market in the disguise of a singular entity, distracts her from both claws and winters. ⟫
Lovely plan. There is a celebration I mean to attend, I was hoping to find a gown for it as well - surely you, too, will be there? ⟪ She still hasn't moved much towards the door. ⟫ 'tis my first time to – shop.
Shame, but they look sharp. You'll have to test them next time we train. As for the celebration - yeah. I guess I'm going. Who doesn't like getting dressed up, right?
[ tara has mixed feelings about it, truthfully, but that's beside the point.
she strides towards the door, confident. unlike cersei, she's pretty used to department stores. bavan has some pretty nice ones, too.
the door is one of those revolving ones. tara slows down and holds it with one mitten-clad hand, assuming that it's the first time cersei has dealt with one of these things. ]
And - don't be intimidated, dude. There's gonna be a lotta stuff. You'll get used to it. No one sucks at shopping.
[ hopefully. a department store could be...overwhelming, maybe, for someone with cersei's background. whoops? ]
They are. We will have to compare – and remind me that I promised to file yours. ⟪ she is getting more and more things holding things in her clawed fingers, it'll fine fine.
either way, her declaration that she will attend as well earns her a beaming smile.
less so the revolving door, and slots in alongside tara, keeping very close so the demon door won't catch her. ⟫
This strikes me at once as worse than the grocer. Exciting too, though, I have only rarely left court – ⟪ and they're inside, where everything is happening so, so much. ⟫ Sh-shall we begin with the training clothes?
[ tara hasn't done her nails in a hot sec. she'd hated the idea as a kid - she'd only learned before going undercover, to stop her from biting them. so it wouldn't be too bad to let cersei file them. that's what female friends do, according to all of the media that tara has ever watched.
tara shepherds cersei through the revolving door. tara had never thought of herself as a protective person - not until defiance, when she'd felt some kind of protective something for kid flash in particular. it's a little different with cersei, who clearly doesn't need to be sheltered, but simply comes from a totally different world.
once they've braved the trial of the revolving door, they're in the department store. tara immediately beelines to the map against the wall, categorizing which areas they'll need to check out. she glances back at cersei, waving her over. no use in overwhelming the girl too badly. ]
Yeah. The Women's Athletic section is on the second floor. Have you ridden an escalator before...? [ tara realizes that this is a ridiculous question before she's finished asking it. ] Never mind. Stay close.
[ before embarking to tackle the dreaded escalator, tara needs to adjust. the temperature inside is warm, almost stiflingly so with all of the layers tara is wearing. she removes her hat and gloves, sticking them in her jacket pockets. after a moment's hesitation, she offers her arm for cersei to take. gotta be a gentleman, right? ]
⟪ cersei at least unbottons her coat, and is all too happy to take tara's arm – after all, that is only proper, and the fact that her maybe-possibly-definitely friend is making such an effort at polite manners is much appreciated.
granted, the escalator is... ah... initially indescribable. ⟫
An electric stairwell?
⟪ fascinating, and by no means a reason to back down on her quest of what she is certain will be highly daring training's clothes. perhaps she finds a bit of reassurance in holding on to tara's arm as they 'board' the escalator.
apprehension turns into a truly transcendental experience for cersei, who, while still holding on tight, is smiling a far more honest smile than usual as the stairs just move upward all on their own. a discounted version of taking flight, in a way, but closer than she would normally get, and she makes an effort to keep her excited peeking down the railing as subtle as possible. ⟫
Oh, we will have to take these again once we head back out, won't we?
⟪ ... she is trying not to sound extremely chipper, and failing. ⟫
[ it's honestly less to do with polite manners and more to do with the fact that she feels as though she should have cersei on a child leash or something. the close proximity feels...strange. stranger now, that's she's sober. but tara's not about go back now. when they board the escalator, tara takes care to ensure cersei sticks to one side of it in case folks want to pass them by.
watching cersei's smile as the stairs carry them upwards is charming. tara can admit that. it doesn't make her soft to acknowledge an objective fact. ]
We will, [ tara confirms as she gently prompts cersei off of the escalator. ] And if the fancy shit is on another floor, we might have to ride a couple more.
[ they probably don't, but maybe tara can find some kind of excuse. ]
Anyway. Athletic wear. S'over there, so - let's get to it.
[ small as she is, tara proves remarkably adept at steering cersei towards their first goal.
the athletic wear section is fairly well-stocked, and not all of it is ridiculously old-fashioned. there are leggings, for one; a section of shorts and sweatpants that tara has already since raided. there are sports bras further to the back, where the section fades into women's pajamas and lingerie, but they'll get to that later if need be. for now, tara surveys the section ahead of them before glancing back at cersei's expression. ]
⟪ it might be a good thing that tara is practically maneuvering cersei along, because of her own accord, she is overwhelmed with the urge to stop at every mirror.
which is... not entirely unusual for her, but the urgency with which she wants that is most definitely strange. perhaps she should invest in more mirrors for her room.
the athletic wear section pulls her away from that notion, and she steps forward to run her hand over various sweatpants and leggings options, feeling the fabric. all of it is strange and absolutely not the finery she is used to. ⟫
I am not used at all to wearing trousers. ⟪ the faith's sense of modesty and her father's way of raising her are at an especially odd clash here. all told, the loose-fitting pants would be more modest than the leggings, but the leggings look, on a mannequin, as though they are more like to accentuate the body she does have – and it is her body that bought her the crown. either way, once she finds a pair of leggings in a truly alarming shade of red, she's eagerly selecting those. ⟫ Just no yellows.
[ tara definitely notices the thing with the mirrors. in all, it's not the weirdest quirk she's seen from someone else, and of course cersei is attractive. anyone could see that.
she watches cersei touch the variety of clothing, plainly looking for some kind of texture that she'd find more pleasing than the others. tara considers a pair of leggings for herself - they're a nice heather grey, thick enough to keep her warm when she goes jogging with rocky - but is distracted when cersei picks the loudest pair of fire hydrant red leggings. tara stifles a grin. ]
You should prob'ly get a couple of pairs. And some tops to go with it. Also, sports bras? They compress your chest so you don't have to deal with your tits bouncing all around when you're running.
⟪ she watches tara pick out the northern-most colour for her own pair, and shuffles through her corner until she finds some nice forest-green ones. whether leggings need bring out her eyes or not is a different question entirely, it'll simply make her happier. ⟫
They are much more comfortable than stays and bodices as is. Much less trouble, too, I would not wish to have to battle the laces by mine own self each morning. ⟪ she smiles, all girlish conspiracy. ⟫ And they sure do draw in the eye, I would wager. If I could have some made of Myrish lace...
⟪ she riffles through the shirts next, immediately discarding most things that do not cover her shoulders. ⟫
Yeah. Those are meant for keeping your tits up an' perky. Sports bras are for keeping 'em in place while you're jogging and exercising and shit. It's more comfortable that way. And it makes 'em a little smaller.
[ tara gestures at her own chest, although cersei really doesn't have a frame of reference for what she looks like when she's wearing one of her other mainstays. she follows cersei's gaze to the shirts, watching her choose between them - and noting the fact that covering her shoulders, of all things, seems to be the priority. ]
Yeah. I wouldn't want to have to lace a bunch of bullshit off to keep the girls in check. I'd probably just chop 'em off and pretend to be a dude.
Would that it were so easy. Gone are the days that I can pass for my brother, and at least I was spared some of the humiliation that comes with my sex.
⟪ cleavage does not seem to be a thing she shies away from, but perhaps the previous mention of bodices and stays and all explains that particular twist. she selects a few, albeit she still seems to steer heavily towards colour, particularly bright reds. ⟫
I should like to try one of those sports bras. ⟪ her eyes absolutely do stray to tara's own chest, and it is true, she does seem... quite flat, and it does raise that question of what amount of this is the sports bra's work.
not really a thought that should go voiced, though the tips of her ears go pink. ⟫ Are these enough?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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you know, like, cya?tara eyes the claws appreciatively, raising one eyebrow. she won't remove her mittens to form a comparison - it's too goddamn cold for that. but the golden claws certainly merit a bit of appreciation. tara certainly prefers them to having paws. ]
Nice. Do they retract?
[ next time she takes off her gloves, tara wants to poke the claws. to see how sharp they are, of course. ]
And yeah. Winter only lasts a few months, depending on where you are in the world. When I was a kid, it felt like it lasted forever. But never longer than half the year. [ her eyes flicker to the entrance of the department store. the nattenfest decor has just been taken down, at least. tara isn't really ever in the mood for too much cheer. ]
Okay, so. Clothes shopping, first. Then, a warm diner with ice cream floats. That's the plan. You got anything else you wanna do?
no subject
⟪ woefully inconvenient, that. still, she overall seems to be quite proud of then, and their uses certainly outweigh everything else.
same as the way tara's winter last a mere half-year at their worst. enviable, but it must mean her summers were equally short, which, all told, seems like the worse end of the deal.
at any rate, the entrance to the shop – more, a whole market in the disguise of a singular entity, distracts her from both claws and winters. ⟫
Lovely plan. There is a celebration I mean to attend, I was hoping to find a gown for it as well - surely you, too, will be there? ⟪ She still hasn't moved much towards the door. ⟫ 'tis my first time to – shop.
⟪ shop for clothes. like this. ⟫
no subject
[ tara has mixed feelings about it, truthfully, but that's beside the point.
she strides towards the door, confident. unlike cersei, she's pretty used to department stores. bavan has some pretty nice ones, too.
the door is one of those revolving ones. tara slows down and holds it with one mitten-clad hand, assuming that it's the first time cersei has dealt with one of these things. ]
And - don't be intimidated, dude. There's gonna be a lotta stuff. You'll get used to it. No one sucks at shopping.
[ hopefully. a department store could be...overwhelming, maybe, for someone with cersei's background. whoops? ]
no subject
either way, her declaration that she will attend as well earns her a beaming smile.
less so the revolving door, and slots in alongside tara, keeping very close so the demon door won't catch her. ⟫
This strikes me at once as worse than the grocer. Exciting too, though, I have only rarely left court – ⟪ and they're inside, where everything is happening so, so much. ⟫ Sh-shall we begin with the training clothes?
no subject
[ tara hasn't done her nails in a hot sec. she'd hated the idea as a kid - she'd only learned before going undercover, to stop her from biting them. so it wouldn't be too bad to let cersei file them. that's what female friends do, according to all of the media that tara has ever watched.
tara shepherds cersei through the revolving door. tara had never thought of herself as a protective person - not until defiance, when she'd felt some kind of protective something for kid flash in particular. it's a little different with cersei, who clearly doesn't need to be sheltered, but simply comes from a totally different world.
once they've braved the trial of the revolving door, they're in the department store. tara immediately beelines to the map against the wall, categorizing which areas they'll need to check out. she glances back at cersei, waving her over. no use in overwhelming the girl too badly. ]
Yeah. The Women's Athletic section is on the second floor. Have you ridden an escalator before...? [ tara realizes that this is a ridiculous question before she's finished asking it. ] Never mind. Stay close.
[ before embarking to tackle the dreaded escalator, tara needs to adjust. the temperature inside is warm, almost stiflingly so with all of the layers tara is wearing. she removes her hat and gloves, sticking them in her jacket pockets. after a moment's hesitation, she offers her arm for cersei to take. gotta be a gentleman, right? ]
no subject
granted, the escalator is... ah... initially indescribable. ⟫
An electric stairwell?
⟪ fascinating, and by no means a reason to back down on her quest of what she is certain will be highly daring training's clothes. perhaps she finds a bit of reassurance in holding on to tara's arm as they 'board' the escalator.
apprehension turns into a truly transcendental experience for cersei, who, while still holding on tight, is smiling a far more honest smile than usual as the stairs just move upward all on their own. a discounted version of taking flight, in a way, but closer than she would normally get, and she makes an effort to keep her excited peeking down the railing as subtle as possible. ⟫
Oh, we will have to take these again once we head back out, won't we?
⟪ ... she is trying not to sound extremely chipper, and failing. ⟫
no subject
watching cersei's smile as the stairs carry them upwards is charming. tara can admit that. it doesn't make her soft to acknowledge an objective fact. ]
We will, [ tara confirms as she gently prompts cersei off of the escalator. ] And if the fancy shit is on another floor, we might have to ride a couple more.
[ they probably don't, but maybe tara can find some kind of excuse. ]
Anyway. Athletic wear. S'over there, so - let's get to it.
[ small as she is, tara proves remarkably adept at steering cersei towards their first goal.
the athletic wear section is fairly well-stocked, and not all of it is ridiculously old-fashioned. there are leggings, for one; a section of shorts and sweatpants that tara has already since raided. there are sports bras further to the back, where the section fades into women's pajamas and lingerie, but they'll get to that later if need be. for now, tara surveys the section ahead of them before glancing back at cersei's expression. ]
See anything you like?
cw: uhhh medieval internalised misogyny issues?
which is... not entirely unusual for her, but the urgency with which she wants that is most definitely strange. perhaps she should invest in more mirrors for her room.
the athletic wear section pulls her away from that notion, and she steps forward to run her hand over various sweatpants and leggings options, feeling the fabric. all of it is strange and absolutely not the finery she is used to. ⟫
I am not used at all to wearing trousers. ⟪ the faith's sense of modesty and her father's way of raising her are at an especially odd clash here. all told, the loose-fitting pants would be more modest than the leggings, but the leggings look, on a mannequin, as though they are more like to accentuate the body she does have – and it is her body that bought her the crown. either way, once she finds a pair of leggings in a truly alarming shade of red, she's eagerly selecting those. ⟫ Just no yellows.
no subject
she watches cersei touch the variety of clothing, plainly looking for some kind of texture that she'd find more pleasing than the others. tara considers a pair of leggings for herself - they're a nice heather grey, thick enough to keep her warm when she goes jogging with rocky - but is distracted when cersei picks the loudest pair of fire hydrant red leggings. tara stifles a grin. ]
You should prob'ly get a couple of pairs. And some tops to go with it. Also, sports bras? They compress your chest so you don't have to deal with your tits bouncing all around when you're running.
[ not that she's looked at cersei's chest! ]
no subject
⟪ she watches tara pick out the northern-most colour for her own pair, and shuffles through her corner until she finds some nice forest-green ones. whether leggings need bring out her eyes or not is a different question entirely, it'll simply make her happier. ⟫
They are much more comfortable than stays and bodices as is. Much less trouble, too, I would not wish to have to battle the laces by mine own self each morning. ⟪ she smiles, all girlish conspiracy. ⟫ And they sure do draw in the eye, I would wager. If I could have some made of Myrish lace...
⟪ she riffles through the shirts next, immediately discarding most things that do not cover her shoulders. ⟫
cw: non-serious self-mutilation reference
[ tara gestures at her own chest, although cersei really doesn't have a frame of reference for what she looks like when she's wearing one of her other mainstays. she follows cersei's gaze to the shirts, watching her choose between them - and noting the fact that covering her shoulders, of all things, seems to be the priority. ]
Yeah. I wouldn't want to have to lace a bunch of bullshit off to keep the girls in check. I'd probably just chop 'em off and pretend to be a dude.
no subject
⟪ cleavage does not seem to be a thing she shies away from, but perhaps the previous mention of bodices and stays and all explains that particular twist. she selects a few, albeit she still seems to steer heavily towards colour, particularly bright reds. ⟫
I should like to try one of those sports bras. ⟪ her eyes absolutely do stray to tara's own chest, and it is true, she does seem... quite flat, and it does raise that question of what amount of this is the sports bra's work.
not really a thought that should go voiced, though the tips of her ears go pink. ⟫ Are these enough?